


Busted

by orphan_account



Category: Arrested Development
Genre: Awkwardness, Dream Sex, Gen, Incestuous Undertones, no actual incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-21
Updated: 2018-11-21
Packaged: 2019-08-27 05:55:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16696726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: In which Michael discovers Maeby's secret life as a film executive, Lindsay and Lucille get back into the country club, Gob and Franklin nearly burn down the office, and Tobias becomes obsessed with Dr. Phil.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Busted](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/434551) by shan21non. 
  * Inspired by [Busted -- part two](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/434554) by shan21non. 



> Italics are the narrator.
> 
> Takes place during season 3, post-"Family Ties" and pre-"Exit Strategy."
> 
> A brief reminder of where this puts the Bluths: Buster is in a (fake) coma, Tobias just got rid of the deadly hair plugs, George Michael and Maeby recently found out that their fake marriage was real, Maeby's sixteenth birthday has not yet arrived so the studio does not know she’s a kid. Got it? Good.

_Maeby had a problem. As she entered the kitchen, she was addressed by the one person whom she was hoping to avoid._

“Maeby, are you okay?” Michael asked.

“I’m fine,” she replied quickly.

_She wasn’t._

_In fact, Maeby had been questioning her mental health since she woke up that morning. Not too long ago she had discovered that the boy she was dating in order to get over her crush on her cousin was, in fact, another cousin. And then she accidentally married the original cousin in what she thought was a fake wedding ceremony._

_So, naturally, she was especially horrified to wake up this morning fresh out of a decidedly non-platonic dream about another Bluth family member. Her Uncle Michael._

FLASH TO: Maeby waking up.

She looks around, eyes wide, apparently very disturbed, only to see George Michael’s face peering at her from over the edge of the top bunk railing. He is standing on his bed so that his face makes it over the side of her bed.

“Maeby, did you say something?” he asks urgently.

“What? No.”

Maeby struggles to sit up and brush her hair out of her face.

“That’s weird. I thought you maybe moaned my name or… something. But you forgot the ‘George.’ Like you said the first half of my name in your dream,” George Michael continues to ramble.

Maeby freezes, the disturbing details of her dream coming back to her more completely.

“No,” she says firmly after she regains the ability to speak.

“Because if you did, it’s not like there would be anything weird or wrong with that. I mean, they’re just dreams. You can’t be held accountable for things that you dream. I… I checked once. It’s not admissible in court.”

Maeby continues to stare at George Michael, wanting nothing more than for him to stop talking and leave. Luckily, he does just that. Awkwardly tripping off his bed, he attempts to walk casually into the bathroom. A second later, the shower can be heard.

Maeby buries her head in her hands.

“What is wrong with me?”

END FLASHBACK.

_A lot, apparently, since she was currently struggling to avoid eye contact with her Uncle, who continued to verbalize his concern for her wellbeing. The exchange had thus far gone unnoticed by Maeby’s mother and father who appeared oblivious to their daughter’s presence as they puttered about the kitchen._

“Are you sure you’re okay? You look sort of feverish,” Michael continued.

And then to her horror, he took her face gently in his hands, tilting her chin up and laying one palm on her forehead. Her temperature shot up, face burning at the memory of the dream.

“Maybe you should stay home from school. You know, I’m going to be home today too… And for the rest of the week because there was a little accident in my office, and it has to be cleaned up.”

FLASH TO: Michael’s office, where Gob is asking him for, what else, money.

“Come on, Michael! I just need $10,000 for this new illusion,” Gob pleads.

“Maybe instead of buying a new toy you should work on getting your old tricks to work first,” Michael replies, clearly unmoved.

Gob’s eyes narrow.

“It’s not a toy and they’re not tricks,” he corrects. “And this isn’t just any toy, Michael. It’s the Temple of Benares! It comes with seven swords! _Seven_!”

“When was the last time you actually pulled off your fire trick?” Michael asks.

Gob straightens up and spreads his arms wide. Michael rolls his eyes, readying himself.

“You mean my fire _illusion_? How about _this_!”

There is a bright flash, followed by unintelligible shouting and coughing. The camera falls to the ground. Smoke fills the frame. Jump forward to see nothing but smoke now. Crackling flames can be heard as well as the faint sound of approaching sirens.

Another cut, and we are in the parking lot outside the Bluth offices. An angry fireman addresses Gob, whose hands are bandaged and whose face is covered in soot.

“Yeah, but still, where did the lighter fluid come from?” the angry fireman demands.

“A magician never reveals his tricks,” Gob declares grandly. Then he seems to realize his mistake. “I mean, I have no idea. I wasn’t even here. Franklin can vouch for me. Franklin? Oh my god, FRANKLIN!!! Save him! Somebody please save him!”

END FLASHBACK

“He was burned back to his original skin tone,” Michael said in a faraway voice. “Anyway, It could be a chance to spend some time together, you know, uncle and niece.”

He smiled genially and motioned between himself and Maeby. Maeby grimaced.

“No, I want to go to school,” she insisted.

Lindsay and Tobias, finally becoming aware that their daughter was in the room, joined Michael in slowly turning and staring at Maeby in disbelief and then exchanging skeptical glances with each other.

After a moment, Lindsay shrugged and went back to searching the cabinets for breakfast. Tobias, on the other hand, held up his pointer finger in an authoritative manner and spoke up.

“Maeby, perchance now is the time for me to once again remove my jaunty thespian fedora and put on my analrapist face stocking.”

“No. I do not need any analrapy from you, Dad,” Maeby assured him.

Her father smiled uneasily.

“You mispronounced it. Again,” he said with somewhat contained frustration.

“Did I?” Maeby asked innocently.

_Lately Tobias had become concerned that Maeby did not view him as an authoritative male figure. It took an episode of Dr. Phil to lead him to that astounding conclusion. Seriously._

_In any case, Tobias felt a sudden tug of jealousy against Michael, who always seemed to effortlessly command authority with George Michael._

“Maybe you need some guidance from your Uncle Mike, huh? Big, strong, manly Uncle Mike. With his manly… man parts,” he spat bitterly.

_The last thing Maeby wanted was to be reminded of her uncle’s man parts, parts which had figured all too prominently in her recent dream._

“I don’t need anything from Uncle Michael’s man parts. Or… uh… anyone. I don’t need anything from anyone,” she stuttered.

Suddenly Lindsay spun around, a delighted, cat that ate the canary smile on her face.

“Is it about a boy, Maeby? Oh, did you and Steve Holt have a fight? Because you know, Steve and I share a strong connection and I think if I talk to him—”

“It’s not about Steve Holt, mother,” Maeby cut her mother off shortly. Then she pinned Linsday with an accusatory glare. “And he’s my cousin! Thanks for letting me in on that little nugget of information, by the way.”

_That was when Lindsay realized that she had neglected to tell her daughter of her blood kinship with her boyfriend._

“Oh. Right,” she said absently.

Maeby sighed and closed her eyes.

“Whatever. I’m just tired. And I have to go to work now.”

“Work?” Michael repeated.

Maeby’s eyes snapped back open.

“School. Which is my work. School is work for kids. That’s what I meant.”

 _She meant_ work _work. In her secret life as a successful movie executive, Maeby had a test screening to attend today. The film being tested was an outlandish comedy called Snowboarding School, which Maeby secretly believed would end up a straight to DVD release. The movie’s star, Jamie Kennedy, had revealed midway through the shoot that he’d never learned to ski. There were of course, early signs that this might have been the case._

FLASH TO: the first day of the Snowboarding School shoot.

Quick cuts of Jamie Kennedy face planting in the snow half a dozen times in rapid succession. He is then seen arguing with the director in the middle of the shoot.

“Well I’m sorry if you’re stuck in such a literal interpretation of the character! I know he’s supposed to be a ski instructor, but I see his failed attempts at skiing as a parallel to his failed attempts at finding true love!”

Kennedy then somehow manages to slowly tip over and face plant in the snow again, despite the fact that he was standing motionless.

The director does not seem to notice this and is shown thoughtfully stroking his beard, considering this interpretation.

“I like it,” the director says.

A neon green X is stamped over the director.

END FLASHBACK

As Maeby spun on her heel and made her way toward the front door sans breakfast, Michael turned on his sister and brother-in-law.

“You aren’t at all concerned about that?” he asked reprovingly, gesturing at Maeby’s back as she walked out the door.

Lindsay glanced distractedly at her daughter.

“I brought her to the salon to get highlights, Michael. It’s not my fault she’s letting them grow out.”

Michael frowned in disbelief.

“No, not her hair. Tobias? You were a therapist—”

“Analrapist, Michael,” Tobias corrected.

Michael squinted and drew his lips tightly together as if considering this edit.

“Yeah, I’m not going to say that,” he decided. “Don’t you find anything odd about the way Maeby has been acting lately? I mean, she looks exhausted, when she talks she sounds vague and cagey, and just now she said she wants to go to school.”

Tobias smiled indulgently and made his way around the kitchen counter to his brother-in-law.

“Oh, Michael. Your concern is endearing, really. I could kiss you on the neck and nibble on that dainty earlobe of yours.”

He then proceeded to reach out in an attempt to caress Michael’s ear, which Michael managed to avoid by recoiling swiftly. Tobias continued to speak, undaunted.

“But as a professional analrapist—”

“Former professional analrapist. You have to have a license to be a real doctor,” Lindsay interjected, still rifling through the cabinets.

“You mispronounced it,” Tobias said, trying and failing to keep the annoyance out of his tone. “My sweet, dear, supportive wife,” he recovered.

“We’re out of cereal,” Lindsay replied boredly, slamming the last cabinet shut so that one of the glass panels shattered.

Michael sighed and set about getting a broom and sweeping up the glass. Tobias continued to speak.

“For your information, Michael, I had a very good fatherly talk with Maeby last week about how she needs to take her studies more seriously now that college is only a few years away. Apparently, it made an impact.”

FLASHBACK TO: Tobias and Maeby lounging in front of the TV in the middle of the afternoon.

Maeby has a stack of screenplays in her lap, which goes unnoticed by her father. She throws an irritated glance at Tobias, who is absently scratching his chest.

“Are you ever going to get a job?” she demands.

“Carl Weathers just called the other day—” Tobias begins confidently.

“Are you talking about when he called two weeks ago because he heard that Gangee was throwing a party and there would be free food?” Maeby cuts him off snappishly.

Tobias pauses with his mouth half open, searching for a suitable response. Instead, he settles for,

“How’s school going?”

Maeby inhales, but she too pauses with her mouth half open, her eyes searching the room.

“See if Maury is on,” she says finally.

Tobias reaches for the remote.

END FLASHBACK

“Oh! I’ve got to go get ready,” Lindsay said, abandoning her breakfast search.

“I was wondering what you were doing up before eight in the morning. What do you have to get ready for?” Michael asked, having just swept the glass pieces into a dust pan.

Lindsay paused before running upstairs.

“I’m going to the country club with mom,” she said with a smug grin.

Michael frowned.

“I thought that mom refused to go back there since she was demoted to a pool member only,” he said.

“Well, we’re back in. Full members.”

“What? We do not have the money for that, Lindsay! How could you let mom do that. I’m calling her right now.”

Michael dumped the glass in the trashcan and reached for the phone.

“We didn’t have to pay a dime of your precious money, Michael,” Lindsay said haughtily.

Once again Michael frowned, putting the phone down.

“Oh god. Is it from the money mom’s been getting by renting Buster’s fake-comatose body out to dental and beautician students?”

“No,” Lindsay replied chipperly. “Apparently the club has a fund for members who, because of a family tragedy, can no longer afford to maintain their membership.”

“I don’t understand. Dad’s been in trouble for years. Why now…” Michael trailed off as the truth dawned on him. “Buster.”

“Baby brother’s coma counts as a family tragedy. And it _is_ costing us a fortune in medical bills,” Lindsay explained.

“Yeah, but we’re like ninety-nine percent sure that Buster is faking his coma,” Michael pointed out.

“Well, I’m like ninety-nine percent sure that the club is faking it’s sympathy, but nevertheless, mom and I are back in!” Lindsay gleefully exclaimed.

“You’re unbelievable,” Michael said reproachfully.

“Don’t be so uptight Michael,” Lindsay sneered, making her way back to the stairs. “You have the day off. Your job is exhausting. Go see a movie or something.”

“My job is not exhausting. It’s just… challenging,” Michael said evasively.

“I was referring to your self-appointed job of getting off by judging your family, but I’m sure your other job has its challenges too.”

And with that, Lindsay smiled sweetly and bounded up the stairs.

“Ridiculous,” Michael muttered.

When he turned back to the kitchen, he noticed his brother-in-law eating a banana.

“I just love these things!” Tobias said genially.

Michael tried to smile, but it came off as more of a grimace.

“Sometimes I like to see if I can eat it all in one bite!” Tobias continued, as if he was imparting a delightful secret to Michael.

_As Tobias proceeded to shove the banana down his throat without taking a bite, only to begin choking and eventually dry heaving into the sink, Michael decided to skip breakfast._


	2. Chapter 2

“What do you mean our claim is being denied?!” Michael shouted into his cell phone.

_Michael was upset._

“You’re damn right I’m upset!” he shouted at the person on the other end of the line.

_He was on the phone with his company’s insurance agent, who had called to inform him that the fire inspector had discovered enough lighter fluid at the scene of the Bluth Company office fire to deem it arson—arson which they had reason to believe was perpetrated by Gob Bluth… Which led them to the conclusion that Gob was attempting insurance fraud._

“You think my brother purposefully set fire to my office for the insurance money?” Michael asked. “Trust me, you are giving him way too much credit here. I don’t even think he understands how an insurance policy works.”

Michael paused, listening to the agent’s response.

“What do you mean he confessed?!” he shouted.

FLASHBACK TO: Gob being questioned by the fire inspector.

“So your brother told us that you were trying to perform a magic trick and it backfired?” the inspector asks.

“Well, I wouldn’t say ‘backfired,’” Gob says defensively.

“Oh really?” the inspector asks, his interest piqued. “So you intended to nearly burn down your building?”

Gob considers this for a moment.

“I said I would create a magical ball of fire, and I did!” he declares extravagantly. “I created the largest ball of fire that any magician has ever created!”

The fire inspector starts scribbling notes.

“So it was all planned as part of your trick?”

“My _Illuuusion_ ,” Gob corrects. “And yes.”

END FLASHBACK

Michael clicked off the phone and his hand fell limply to his side.

“I am [bleep]ed.”

After wallowing for a moment in paralyzing self-pity, Michael decided it was time to confront his brother. He punched the numbers into the phone with frightening intensity, as if the buttons had wronged him in some way.

“Yyyello?” came Gob’s cheerful voice.

“Gob, why the hell did you say that you purposefully set fire to the office?” Michael said by way of greeting.

“A magician never tells his secrets, Michael,” Gob replied importantly.

“Oh, I know exactly _how_ you did it,” Michael elaborated. “I want to know why. _Why_ would you do that, Gob? Now our insurance won’t cover the damages. It’s going to cost at least ten grand to replace the furniture and the carpet, not to mention repainting—”

“Listen, Michael, I can’t really talk right now,” Gob interrupted. “Franklin and I are preparing for a big show today.”

_The ‘big show’ to which Gob was referring was at the country club, and it wasn’t a show so much as it was Gob planning to simply show up and entertain unsuspecting club members in the restaurant._

Michael sighed, having no patience for Gob’s attempts to change the subject.

“You have to redact your arson confession, Gob. Now, before you and Franklin do any shows,” he said sternly.

“You should see him, Mikey. I tried to re-dye him after I accidentally bleached him, but he never looked quite the same. But now, thanks to the fire damage, he’s blacker than ever!” Gob continued, sounding like an excited child.

Michael began pacing back and forth between the dining room table and the family room, where Tobias was lounging and watching television.

“Gob, this is serious, okay? The company doesn’t have the money to cover this damage, and I’m pretty sure the police are going to arrest you for arson,” he said matter-of-factly.

“Look, Michael, you need to relax. Think of this as a vacation! A little time away from the office will do you good. Why don’t you get out, go see a movie or something?” Gob suggested.

Michael stopped short in the family room and gritted his teeth.

“I mean it, Gob. Fix this by the end of the day.”

“Yeah sure,” Gob said dismissively. “Franklin and I are going to do our vocal warm-ups now.”

Michael heard a click and realized a second later that he had just been ditched for a puppet.

“I can’t believe him,” he announced to the room at large.

However, since Tobias was the only one there and he hadn’t been following the conversation, he misinterpreted Michael’s statement.

“I know! Don’t you just want to write him a letter and seal it with a kiss?” Tobias replied dreamily.

Michael frowned.

“What?”

And that was when he realized that Tobias had been watching the Dr. Phil Show throughout his entire phone conversation.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Who were you talking about?” Tobias asked.

Michael continued to look at the TV screen and his frown deepened.

“…Who were _you_ talking about?” he asked.

Both men stared at the TV for a moment longer, which currently showed Dr. Phil screaming at a fat woman who had begun to cry. Michael’s expression was troubled, whereas Tobias looked entranced.

“Did you know that the good doctor is also an actor?” Tobias exclaimed suddenly. “He’s made appearances on Fraiser, Bernie Mac, _and_ Sesame Street!”

Michael’s eyes widened in feigned interest.

“I did not. No, I did not know that. I don’t really watch this show.”

“Well, you don’t know what you’re missing! Why don’t you sit your sweet little tush down right here!”

Tobias patted his right thigh. Michael stared at him blankly. Finally, Tobias slid his hand over to the cushion beside him and patted that instead. Michael made a face that made it clear that this option was only slightly better than the first.  
  
“No thanks,” he replied. “Is Dr. Phil even on at… ten in the morning?”

“I taped it,” Tobias explained. “Every day this week. I’m re-watching it for tips. I have recently come to see Dr. Phil as my tough but caring director and I, his budding ingénue. The man is a towering pillar of wisdom and strength! I defy you to find anyone who doesn’t respect and fear him.”

“Well that… would be a challenge,” Michael said carefully.

“Boy, I’d sure like him give me some analrapy. Can you imagine?” Tobias asked gleefully.

“You pronounced that wrong,” Michael pointed out. “And no. Thankfully, I can’t.”

“What?” Tobias asked absently.

“Nothing,” Michael replied, deciding it was best to let this slide.

“You sure you don’t want to watch?” Tobias asked, patting the cushion again for effect.

“Yes. I think I’m gonna take the staircar out for a spin,” Michael answered.

“Excellent idea. Hey! You should go see a movie or something. Titillate your senses with one of Hollywood’s magical flights of fancy. One day you’ll see me up on that screen, Michael! One day!”

Tobias ended this statement by dramatically raising his fist into the air in a determined show of confidence. He smiled at Michael for a moment, but then his gaze drifted back to the TV screen.

“Do you think he works out?” he asked.

_Michael did not reply, but instead put on his shoes and looked forward to driving anywhere that wasn’t the model home. Meanwhile, Lindsay and Lucille arrived for brunch at the club, ready to play the role of the bravely suffering relatives of a coma patient._

“We’re back!” Lindsay triumphantly declared as the greeter waved them into the restaurant.

“Just a friendly reminder, dear: Although this is technically a brunch, we are here to mingle, not to stuff our faces with Skip’s Scrambles,” Lucille said under her breath.

Lindsay paused to glare at her mother.

“Well then I’d like to remind _you_ that this is not an opportunity to hit up the bar, mother. Getting plastered at ten in the morning isn’t okay, even if you’re just ordering mimosas.”

Lucille did not hear this jab, however, was focused on an approaching figure.

“Oh lord, here comes that hairless freak of a ma—Stan! Hello!”

“Lucille, Lindsay,” Stan Sitwell began, nodding at the pair. “I was so sorry to hear about Buster.”

“Yes, well, it’s been hard on all of us. But this helps,” Lindsay said, smiling graciously.

“What helps?” Sitwell asked.

“Being back at the club,” Lindsay explained, moving away slightly to check out the buffet table.

“Where we can see the love and support that the members feel for us all,” Lucille added, her voice dripping with faux-graciousness.

“Are those cheese danishes?” Lindsay asked no one in particular, snatching one from the table.

“Listen, I’d like to see Buster, drop off some cards from well-wishers at Sitwell. Are you going to see him later today?” Stan asked Lucille.

_In fact, Lucille had been planning on spending all day at the club, soaking up vodka and the sympathy of dozens of influential socialites. Of course, she could not say this and risk tarnishing her image as a grieving mother._

“…Yes, of course,” Lucille replied, plastering a smile on her face.

“Good, good. Perhaps I could accompany you ladies. Maybe even drive? I see that you took the, uh, cabin car here,” Stan offered.

_Unfortunately, at that moment one of his eyebrows came loose and landed on Lindsay’s danish._

“What the hell was that?” she asked, recoiling in horror.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Stan apologized, pulling a spare eyebrow from his breast pocket.

_Lindsay glanced sadly at the danish, which now looked like a caterpillar had tried to cross the cheesy center and become stuck, and placed it back on the buffet table._

“You didn’t need the carbs anyway,” Lucille whispered, and Lindsay pursed her lips and looked up to the ceiling, as if asking for strength from some higher power.

“Ladies and gentleman, please welcome your entertainment for this morning, comedian and magician extraordinaire, Gob Bluth and his pal Franklin!”

“Oh dear lord,” Lucille muttered.

_Glancing around the restaurant, Lucille and Lindsay immediately located Gob, who had just provided his own introduction. And although the two Bluth women did not always get along, they were able to communicate worldlessly at that moment and come to a swift decision._

“We should go see Buster now,” they declared simultaneously.

_Stan Sitwell was taken aback, but politely hid this sentiment and agreed to pull his car around. Lindsay and Lucille were out of the door before Gob was able to start his routine._

About two seconds into the performance, a middle-aged woman in a business suit stood up.

“Is that puppet in blackface?” she demanded loudly enough for the entire restaurant to hear.

“What? No. He was horribly burned,” Gob blustered, irritated that there was apparently a heckler trying to derail his and Franklin’s routine.

“Is that what you think of African Americans? That their faces look horribly burned?” the middle-aged woman accused.

“The only time I need fire is to light my crap pipe, bitch!” Franklin burst out.

Seeing several club members stand to leave, Gob began to sweat and tried to nervously laugh off the outburst.

“Franklin, please. That was culturally insensitive,” he half-laughed, half-whispered.

“Who hired this man? I demand that he leave!” the middle-aged woman shouted.

“I demand that you [bleep]ing [bleep] on my black [bleep] before I show you the back of my hand!” Franklin bellowed.

_And that was when the cops were called. All in all, it was one of Franklin’s more successful performances._

FLASH FORWARD: The cops are taking witness statements from the people at the club. The angry middle-aged woman has a red puppet handprint across her cheek. One police officer is questioning Franklin separately from Gob.

“Franklin, don’t tell them anything! You don’t have to talk!” Gob shouts.

One of the policemen walks up to the cop taking Gob’s statement. He has a piece of paper in his hand that he shows the other policeman.

“We just got an APB for an arson suspect,” the cop says, gesturing to the piece of paper, which has a picture of Gob on it.

Gob catches a glimpse of it. He frowns.

“I’ve made a huge mistake.”

_While Gob was being forced to deal with the ramifications of lying to the fire inspector out of pride, Buster was being forced to deal with the ramifications of lying about being comatose out of fear._

_Buster had it worse._

_He was currently being spooned by Congressman John Van Heusen, a republican determined to maintain the sacred gift of human life. Unless that life belonged to a retarded person who committed murder._

_In any case, the congressman had taken it upon himself to save Buster from being taken off life support machines—machines which, ironically, Buster did not need as he was faking his coma. Unfortunately for Buster, Van Heusen had developed an unseemly attachment to him._

The doorknob to Buster’s room jiggled, and the congressman leapt out of Buster’s hospital bed. Lucille was the first to enter the room, and saw Van Heusen just as he was pulling away from her son. Lindsay and Sitwell followed, the latter holding a giant teddy bear balloon and a stack of cards.

“You’re that religious nut who’s trying to keep my son alive!” Lucille exclaimed.

“Congressman Van Heusen,” the congressman supplied. “I thought his heart stopped beating. Therefore I was forced to leap on top of him and press my face into his bosom to check for a pulse,” he explained.

Stan Sitwell spoke up, his fake eyebrows drawn together in confusion.

“Couldn’t you just check for a pulse on his wrist or his neck?”

“I’m a former Navy seal, sir. It’s how I was trained,” Van Heusen said.

_It wasn’t._

“Now, I’ll wait outside out of respect for family privacy,” he continued, excusing himself from the room.

“He looks peaceful,” Lindsay said, eager to perfect the appearance of the loving sister.

“He does,” Lucille agreed, coming to stand beside her daughter.

“Are you sure? It looks sort of like his eyes are screaming,” Stan Sitwell noted.

_They were._

“That’s just the medication,” Lucille said dismissively.

Sitwell placed the cards on the bedside table and released the balloon so that it floated up and stilled on the ceiling above Buster.

“Well, I just want you to know that as long as your family is undergoing this horrible burden, myself and the other members of the club will continue to support you. It’s the least we can do,” he said kindly.

Lucille and Lindsay’s eyes lit up.

“That is just so kind, Stan. Thank you,” Lucille said saccharinely. “Lindsay darling, why don’t you head back out, I’m going to say goodbye to my darling baby boy.”

Lindsay smiled and looked to Stan.

“Sure, we’ll pull the car around for you,” Stan said, offering Lindsay his arm as they walked out.

Once they were out of sight, Lucille seated herself on the edge of Buster’s bed.

“Buster, I know you can hear Mother,” she began, stroking his forehead. “Just know that Mother is very proud of you. In fact, if you were to remain in this coma indefinitely so that the club continued to pay for her membership, she would love you all the more.”

She stood and the smile left her face.

“And don’t try to play with that balloon. You’ll pop it with that horrible hook and I’m not going to buy you another. I’ll go tell Congressman Whatshisname that he can come back in.”

And with that, she left the room. Buster blinked.

“I am effed,” he said.

_*musical interlude*_

_Mr. F!_

_*end musical interlude*_

_Michael was wandering the streets of Los Angeles, trying to find a way to pass the time. He had thus far succeeded only in being asked a half dozen times by tourists if he wouldn’t mind taking their picture. He was just about as good as his son at taking a day off. And then his cell phone rang._

Michael pulled his phone out of his pocket.

“Hello?” he said.

“Michael! They kicked me and Franklin out of the club!” came Gob’s urgent bellow.

Michael couldn’t bring himself to feign surprise.

“There’s a shocker,” he said.

“I mean, the nerve! And after I found a caterpillar on the danish I was eating and I didn’t even say anything!” Gob continued to steam. “When I get out of here I’m going to call the health inspector.”

Michael paused.

“I’m sorry, when you get out of _where_?” he asked.

“Oh, right,” Gob replied, realizing he had left out some important details. “When the cops showed up to force Franklin and I out, they brought me in for my outstanding arson warrant!”

_It took every ounce of strength Michael had not to reply with ‘I told you so.’_

"Well, Gob. I told you so."

_Michael was not feeling very strong today._

“Why don’t you just tell them that your trick backfired?" he continued. "My statement would back you up. If you admit that you lied to avoid looking stupid, they might just let you go."

“Never, Michael. I know you won’t understand this—you lack a certain mannish instinct—but a real man never admits when he has made a huge mistake. Unless he’s a [bleep].”

_In the British interpretation, this word means sweet or gentle, as in pussycat. Gob did not mean this word in the British sense._

A young man wearing a Tantamount Studios polo chose this moment to approach Michael, failing to notice that he was on the phone.

“Sir, would you like to attend a free movie screening for a major Hollywood film?”

_And that was when Michael decided to do what people had been telling him to do all day. He was going to see a movie._

Snatching the ticket, Michael smiled to himself. It was his day off, after all.

“Gotta go,” he said into the cell phone, flipping it shut before Gob could reply.

_Maeby stood at the entrance to the theater, greeting the test audience as they entered. And then she saw her uncle and promptly ducked behind a large potted plant._

“Him?” she whispered.


End file.
